“How long has baby been gone?”
“Three months.”
“Three months?”
“Mhm.”

When officers in Detroit receive reports that a three‑year‑old boy has not been seen in over three months, they rush to perform a welfare check at his mother’s home. What follows is a bone‑chilling confession and a horrifying discovery that demands answers. As investigators dig deeper, they find themselves confronting a reality far darker than they could have imagined.

> “He wouldn’t eat, and I just took it overboard…”
>
> “What’d you do?”

## The Call That Started Everything

In the city of Detroit, Michigan, on June 24th, 2022, Wayne County dispatch receives a 911 call from **Child Protective Services (CPS)**. The CPS worker explains the alarming situation.

> “I got a complaint that a mother reported to her family that one of her children was given away at the hospital. The same mother told a neighbor that her family members had the children. Well, the family members went to the house and confronted the mother, and she will not give up the information where the child is. And there’s a concern that the child is actually dead.”

The dispatcher asks the age of the child.

> “How old is the child?”
> “Three years old. There are five other children in that home as well.”

With a possible dead toddler and multiple children at risk, officers hurry to the address given: the home of 31‑year‑old **Azardee France**.

—

## Conflicting Stories at the Door

When officers arrive, they meet Azardee at the door and ask about the three‑year‑old boy.

> “What’s your name?”
> “Chase.”
> “How old is he?”
> “Three.”
> “Okay. Where is he?”

Azardee’s answers are vague and inconsistent.

> “What’s he with?”
> “My old friend… a friend of mine.”
> “Okay, where does she live?”
> “Uh… that information is in my iPhone.”

Officers ask if she has her phone available.

> “Do you have your phone?”
> “No.”

They ask if she knows the woman’s phone number.

> “You have a phone number?”
> “No, it’s in my iPhone.”
> “Where’s your phone?”
> “It’s not here.”
> “Where’s your phone? Is it broke, or is it just not here?”
> “No… it’s not here.”

The officers press further.

> “How long has baby been gone?”
> “Three months.”
> “Three months?”
> “Mhm.”

So, by her own admission, the three‑year‑old has been gone for three months. The officers ask how the arrangement supposedly worked.

> “So who’s had baby for three months?”
> “I mean… I don’t… I asked family to get them because I just had a baby and he’s blind and needs special attention. And she was helping us.”

But Azardee claims she doesn’t know where this “friend” lives, and she cannot provide a phone number, address, or any verifiable details.

> “So you gave your baby to somebody that you don’t… you don’t know her whereabouts? You don’t know where she lives? You don’t know phone number? You don’t know none of that?”
> “No.”

Officers ask for consent to enter the home and check if the boy is inside.

> “Okay, can we come in and make sure he’s not in this house?”
> “Do you have a search warrant?”
> “Ma’am, I’m asking you—can we come in and check this house for this child?”

The situation suddenly takes an unexpected turn.

—

## “I Confess”

As tensions rise, Azardee steps outside and blurts out a statement that changes everything.

> “Say what?”
> “I confess…”
> “What are you confessing to? What you confess to? What’d you do?”

She asks to speak privately.

> “Can I talk to you in private? Please put ’em on me.”

As officers place her in handcuffs and lead her toward a patrol car, other officers are directed to speak with the children inside the home. Their ages range from just two months to nine years old.

—

## The Children’s Silent Guidance

Inside, an officer gently questions the children.

> “How many of you are in here?”
> “Four… and my baby sister too.”
> “And your baby sister. You guys… where’s your brother at? Can you tell me? It’s okay.”

The children hesitate, scared and confused. The officer reassures them that they are not in trouble and that their mom doesn’t know what they’re telling the police.

> “Is he in the house? You can’t remember anything? Do you remember the last time you saw him? You’re not in trouble. Is he inside? Your mom’s going to be okay. She doesn’t know what you’re telling us right now. Is he inside the house? Just shake your head no or yes.”

One of the children quietly nods.

> “Yeah.”
> “Can you show me?”
> “Yeah.”
> “Okay. How about you show me?”

The officers follow the nine‑year‑old girl into the home, unaware of the grim discovery awaiting them downstairs.

Meanwhile, outside, Azardee begins to reveal the truth.

—

## A Chilling Confession

Back at the patrol car, Azardee’s tone shifts from denial to trembling admission.

> “I’m scared… listen… listen…”

She finally speaks clearly.

> “Where is he?”
> “In the basement.”
> “Where?”
> “In the refrigerator.”
> “I’m nervous…”

The officer, stunned but composed, tries to get details.

> “When did he pass away? How long ago?”
> “In March… the end of March. He was malnourished… and I didn’t want to take him… I was scared.”

The officer tells her to sit down and put her feet into the car. Another officer runs into the house to alert those inside.

> “One officer quickly races inside to tell the others—but nothing could prepare them for the horrifying discovery waiting downstairs.”

—

## The Basement Search

Officers head to the basement with their weapons drawn, their flashlights cutting through the darkness.

> “Detroit police! Detroit police, if you’re down here say something! Detroit police!”

One officer calls out what the little girl had told him.

> “The little girl told me…”

They see something.

> “Do you guys don’t want to see him though?”
> “Yes, I know… Um, I’m going to guess it’s in the bag.”
> “I don’t have gloves.”
> “I don’t either.”

They spot what appears to be a **plaid laundry bag**.

> “There’s blood.”

As they draw closer, the officers make a devastating confirmation.

> “You want…?”
> “Yeah, I got… It’s a confirm.”
> “Yeah.”
> “Yeah.”
> “You don’t have to look if you don’t want to. I’mma look.”
> “You’re going to smell it. If you want me to pull it back, I can.”
> “That’s good enough for me.”

Inside the bag are skeletal remains. It is the missing three‑year‑old boy, **Chase**.

—

## “I Didn’t Beat Him”

Outside, Azardee continues talking to officers, offering her version of events.

> “Excuse me sir, I didn’t beat him. I didn’t. He was malnourished and I didn’t know who to call. It’s not abuse. I was scared.”

This is now the second time she claims Chase died from malnutrition. During her later interrogation, she would change her story yet again and reveal even more disturbing details.

For the moment, officers focus on securing the scene and ensuring the safety of the remaining children. They must balance collecting evidence with protecting those who cannot protect themselves.

—

## Conditions Inside the Home

Upon further inspection, officers discover that the house is infested with roaches. There is no running water and no food in the kitchen. The living conditions are filthy and dangerous.

In the living room, they find the two‑month‑old baby lying in a swing.

> “Is she alive?”
> “Yeah. The milk’s just… spilled there. Hopefully she stays asleep.”

With the exception of the eldest nine‑year‑old girl and the infant, the other children are not wearing any clothing.

> “Is that your little brother? Where’s his clothes at? Does he have clothes?”
> “Yeah.”
> “He know where at. You want to show me?”

The child grabs some clothing and hands it over. One officer asks where they sleep.

> “Where do you sleep at?”
> “We sleep in my room.”
> “In this one?”
> “No, this one.”
> “You sleep in here?”

Meanwhile, one officer keeps a careful eye on the baby while others guide the children to safety.

—

## Getting the Children Out

The children are escorted to the back of a police cruiser for their safety. Officers try to comfort them in small ways during an unimaginably traumatic time.

> “Come on, baby. Come on, guys. You guys want some candy? You guys want some water? We only got one bottle—you have to pass it around, okay? It’s flavored. You guys like hot fries?”

They give the kids a cell phone so they can watch a movie, distracting them as much as possible from the chaos unfolding outside.

Back at the basement entrance, officers discuss what they’ve seen.

> “Ten bucks says that kid starved to death.”
> “She’s ignorant. These kids are f***ed up for life.”

One officer notes what he saw.

> “I already knew he was in there. You see the floor? That’s… That’s all I needed.”
> “Well, I seen that in the back. I could see… you could see the head shape and then the bottom of it.”

Another is outraged at the manner in which the child was left.

> “How you put him in a freezer don’t even work? I think it was a fridge, like one of those fridges.”

They also reflect on the timeline.

> “She said it’s been three months, right? That’s what she initially said. The baby she just had is only two months old, so the baby died before she even had the baby. So she can’t really claim she was overwhelmed just because of the newborn.”

The officers note that the other children clearly show signs of neglect and nutritional issues.

> “You can tell, it’s ‘cause they’re malnourished. Yeah, they’re very skinny.”

They also notice the smell of the bedroom where the children sleep.

> “I asked them which room they were sleeping in— the one that I couldn’t even open the door, it just reeks of pee.”

They’re eager to get the kids away from this environment as quickly as possible.

> “I was trying to figure out what we’re doing with these kids to get them off scene.”

—

## The Neighborhood Watches

As more units arrive, curious neighbors begin to gather outside. They see patrol cars, fire trucks, and tape, but they don’t yet know what’s going on.

Meanwhile, Azardee continues asking officers questions.

> “Excuse me… do my neighbors have to know?”
> “Huh?”
> “Do my neighbors have to know?”
> “Ma’am, listen, you’re asking me a lot of questions.”
> “I’m nervous.”
> “I got you. I know, I understand you’re nervous. I apologize for that. But right now, we don’t know what’s going on yet. So when we find out what’s going on, we will let you know what’s going on.”
> “I’m sorry.”
> “No, you’re fine.”

One officer vents his anger away from her.

> “I want to punch this b**** in the face. Reality: this is what we signed up for, buddy. Now she’s all worried about her neighbors knowing. Stupid.”

—

## CPS and the Hard Choices

Officers notify **Child Protective Services**, who begin making their way to the scene. CPS will determine the immediate steps for the children’s safety and where they should go next.

While they wait, another practical but nauseating dilemma arises: the two‑month‑old baby wakes up hungry. The officers need a clean bottle, but there don’t appear to be any.

> “There’s no clean bottles… just grab… and shake it.”
> “Whatever. Check the kitchen real quick.”
> “I don’t see any. Might just have to rinse that one out.”

The smell of the house, particularly after the fridge and bag in the basement have been opened, is overwhelming.

> “14… yeah, I opened it and it hit me in the face.”

Back at the patrol car, Azardee asks again about her own fate.

> “You taking me?”
> “I’m not sure.”
> “Hopefully you take me so I can flirt with the girl from homicide.”

Her casual remark leaves an officer stunned.

> “Homicide? Nothing? I… no, you’re fine. You don’t need…”

Inside the house, officers search for diapers for one of the younger children.

> “The 9‑year‑old said that’s their bedroom, so I don’t know if there’s a diaper in there.”
> “No diapers in there.”
> “I don’t see any.”
> “Either. Like I said, get the one out there right away.”

Members of the Detroit Fire Department arrive on scene to assist and evaluate any safety hazards. They cautiously head toward the basement.

> “I’m going to go downstairs and see what the deal is.”
> “It’s still covered up though with the bag.”
> “That’s fine. I just want to leave everything the way it was.”
> “Okay, I changed my mind. I’m no longer going inside.”

—

## The Children Are Removed

When CPS finally arrives, they determine that all of the children must go to the hospital for a full medical evaluation. CPS and officers begin contacting family members to see if any are willing and able to take custody.

One of the CPS workers kneels down and speaks to the children.

> “Okay little ones, I have a question. How many of you have ridden in an ambulance before?”
> “Yeah.”
> “We’re going to go for a ride in the ambulance. We’re going to go see a doctor and make sure everybody’s okay. How about that?”

With that, the children are loaded into ambulances and taken to a local hospital. For now, they are physically safe and away from the house where their brother died.

—

## The Interrogation: “I Did Hit Him”

Back at the station, detectives sit down with **Azardee France** to get her full account. They confront her directly about whether she physically harmed Chase.

> “I’m not trying to sound like… or anything, but I can’t talk about anything. I can’t talk about the case.”
> “The detectives are en route, and they’ll go from there.”
> “Where will my kids go?”
> “CPS is coming.”
> “Oh my God, no, please. They have family.”

When detectives arrive, they ask her again about what happened to Chase.

> “You never hit him?”
> “What?”
> “Okay, okay. I’m not going to lie. I did.”
> “When? Remember, it’s okay now. Just… when?”
> “I don’t want to be in trouble.”
> “Just… when?”
> “I was frustrated. I did hit him.”
> “When?”
> “A couple times. I know it was a couple times.”
> “Why?”
> “I was frustrated and I was angry. I didn’t mean… but this is the time to say what happened.”

Detectives press gently but firmly.

> “He wouldn’t eat, and I just took it overboard.”
> “What’d you do?”
> “I started hitting him. And then I kicked him one time.”
> “Where’d you kick him at?”
> “I think in his chest.”

They ask what happened next.

> “What happened after you kicked him in his chest?”
> “He laid down. And I went to go check on him and he was okay. But the next morning, he didn’t… I tried to feed him. He didn’t get up.”

The detective asks the question that hangs over everything.

> “Do you think you… killed him?”
> “No, I don’t think… I could have, but I don’t think I did.”
> “You don’t think abusing him all those months did something to him?”
> “Yes.”
> “You don’t think kicking him in the chest that day did something to him?”
> “…Yes.”

While official autopsy details are not confirmed in the available records, several news outlets have reported that Chase suffered multiple skull fractures.

—

## Court, Jail, and a Seventh Child

On June 27th, three days after Chase’s remains were discovered, Azardee entered a **not guilty** plea to charges of:

– Felony murder
– First‑degree child abuse
– Torture
– Concealing the death of an individual

She was held at the Wayne County Jail awaiting trial. During her time there, she had several phone calls that shed light on her mindset.

In one call with an unknown male, she discusses the next steps in her case.

> “I’m going to trial in January.”
> “What type of…?”
> “For me to take the test. They want to ask about how he got that knot on his head. They want to see if I did or not. But I know I ain’t guilty, so I don’t got nothing to worry about.”

Later, in a call on February 26th—about eight months after her arrest—she makes a shocking claim to an unknown woman.

> “I had the baby yesterday.”
> “Oh, you already had the baby?”
> “Yeah, I was in there since Friday.”
> “Oh, damn.”
> “She was born 8:04 yesterday.”
> “You had a girl?”
> “Yeah, she 10 pounds.”
> “So then what?”
> “They coming to get her. I don’t know. They didn’t even… soon as I pushed her out, they took her. They asked for a number and that was it.”

While we haven’t been able to confirm through official records that she gave birth to a seventh child while in jail, that is what she states during the recorded call.

—

## Sentencing and Aftermath

On July 12th, 2024, 31‑year‑old **Azardee France** changed her plea to **guilty** on a single charge of **second‑degree murder**. All other charges were dismissed as part of the agreement.

She was sentenced to **35 to 60 years** in prison, with **767 days** credited for time served. She is currently incarcerated in the Michigan Department of Corrections.

The current status and whereabouts of her surviving children are not publicly known. However, a **GoFundMe** created by Chase’s grandmother raised over **$8,000** for his funeral expenses and for the ongoing care of his siblings.

—

## A Systemic Failure and a Lost Child

This case is more than the story of one mother and one child. It’s a stark example of systemic failure on multiple levels.

CPS had been involved. Family members had raised alarms. Neighbors had concerns. Yet, nothing stopped this from happening. A three‑year‑old boy, Chase, was missing for months before anyone forced the truth into the open.

The surviving children are left with deep trauma and scars—physical, emotional, and psychological. Officers on scene could see their malnourishment and fear. Their lives will never be the same.

Cases like this remind us that when a child disappears from sight—stops attending daycare, isn’t seen outside, or is kept away with flimsy stories—someone must act. Every missed chance to intervene can have deadly consequences.

In the end, Chase never had the chance to grow up. But his story may help push others to speak up sooner, push harder, and refuse to accept vague explanations when a child’s life may be at stake.